A Sick Love Story
by RedRoses5
Summary: What do you do when you have resigned to death, and suddenly, it's not an option any more? If you could have a future as bright as the sun, would you fight for it, even if there was a chance the clouds would get in the way? Jacob/OC
1. Prologue

**A/N: This story had been bugging me for a while now, and I had to get it posted. The next chapter is basically already finished. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns what you recognize from her books.**

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><p><em>Prologue<em>

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><p>I don't know exactly how it started. One day I was resigned to death, just waiting for the pin to drop, and the next, I was afraid of it. He was at the hospital with his father, whom I conceded was healthy and just getting a check up, looking . . . Like me. It wasn't like he was practically bald, pale as paper, and skinny as a stream bean. The exact opposite actually. A head full of shaggy black hair, beautiful russet skin, tall, thick, and regal. So you see, it wasn't his physical features that were familiar to me in the scratched up mirror I looked in every morning, but it was the expression in his eyes. Empty. Resigned. Lost. He looked like he had his heart smashed into a million pieces. Twice. My look, I guessed, looked more as though I had everything taken away from me in five simple words.<p>

_You have Ewing's Sarcoma cancer._

I mean, who's even heard of that? I hadn't, that's for sure. The doctors assured me that I had a high survival rate, that my recovery was very likely. That I'd be okay. But, come on, how was I supposed to believe that? I was a seventeen year old girl with a bright future, who thought she was young and healthy. I was young alright, but far from healthy. I guess the cancer kind of made sense, in a way. The continuous achy pains in my bones bothered me all the time. At first, being the ignorant teenager that I was, I shrugged it off as growing pains. But after a few months and still remaining at 5'5, I realized it was far more complicated than that. I'd confessed to my parents about the pains, and they rushed me to the hospital. A few tests, some blood being drawn, and a brutal wait later, I was crushed.

I'd accepted that I had cancer, and was ready to fight it. That was until, I started chemotherapy. The years, and constant conditioning of my long, brown locks, was all thrown away. I was left with a thin veil over my head. A pale comparison to my usual curtain. I felt and looked like crap. It also didn't help when friends stopped being friends when you were suddenly on your deathbed. However, I always had my family. Mom, dad, and my beloved baby sister Lacy (well, not really mom, but we'll get into that later). Not to mention the bestest friend a girl could have: Hannah. She was the only one of my so called friends from Forks High to visit me. Not everyday, but at any time she could spare. The gray and white hospital room I'd become so familiar with seemed like a different room with her in it. Much more colorful. On those days I'd feel inspiration to fight. Those kind of days were short and little. They mostly came when my parents visited with Lacy. I'd stare into those big blue eyes, full of such innocence, and I'd think she needed an older sister to look up to when she grew up. But then I'd be injected with poison and I'd go right back down.

The more I pondered it, the more I relented into it. _People would be better off without me. Lacy would be just fine, you're not the best role model. Hannah will survive, she's tougher than a nut. Mom and dad will be upset, but they'd get over it. They had Lacy. _These negative thoughts were more frequent than I'd wish for. It felt like there was a constant cloud looming over me. That was, however, until the sun broke through.

That heartbroken boy turned out to be the thing I needed. The thing I'd fight for. He wasn't really the sun, of course. His smile though, would have you second guessing that. You must think I'm selfish. Being resigned to death, not fighting for even my own family. But when a future as bright as his smile opened up to me, I couldn't just let it slip through my fingers. I saw one full of laughing and smiling and family and love.

Love.

That's what saved me. Not necessarily love itself, but _his_ love. It healed me.

My name is Lilac Scarlett Knight, and this is my sick love story.

Pun intended.

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><p><strong>AN: So . . ? I really hope this doesn't offend anyone in any way, shape, or form. I'm not an expert on cancer, but I did a bit of research. For anyone who has suffered losses from it, I am terribly sorry. If any of my facts are wrong, don't hesitate to tell me. I hope you like it. :) **

**EDIT: 7/2/14. I literally just realized that I've been being spellchecked every time I put "Lacy." It kept changing it to "Lucy." It did this multiple times in other chapters, so I had to go back and change that. This chapter was deleted from my files, so I had to copy/paste it to get it back. NEVER AGAIN. I had to do soooo much editing because all I saw was "hydjskns100%,,NCOs?jussi smash" (gibberish). I understand it's to stop plagiarizing, but wow. How people still do it, I don't know. But alas, this is fixed. So I'm happy. I'm kind of embarrassed though. But people I didn't plagiarize. I wrote all of this. My words. So no trouble here. :) **


	2. Definitely Not Sue

**A/N: thank you for all of your follows/favorites/reviews! Amazing! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! **

**Another thanks to my lovely reviewers **_Hiddenamoungbooks, _reader5sam, _NeRd999, and _queentygress85.

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns anything you recognize. ;) **

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><p><em>Definitely Not Sue <em>

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><p>There was only one mirror in which I looked at my reflection anymore. It was scratched up, giving me a slightly distorted image of myself. I loved it. I looked in it twice a day, morning and night. When you don't recognize yourself anymore, you don't want to look in the mirror. Especially when you look like me. I guess I was pretty, nothing special. I hate attention, so people didn't give it to me. But here, at the hospital, it's all I get. Constant questions on my well being, inquiry about my day. It was annoying. If I needed something I'd tell you. My days haven't been so good — obviously — but that's a given.<p>

A lot of people would probably say I'm a horrible person. I'm barely fighting to keep my life, when I should be trying with every last breath. But a lot of people don't know, I'm a complete and utter disappointment to my parents. When you're filthy rich, and your daughter doesn't follow The Rules of Society, you'd probably hate her too. Well, not exactly hate, more like be embarrassed by. Mom and I butt heads the most, an ongoing battle between what she wants, and what I want. In all honesty, she'd probably throw a party if I died. She'd claim it was a memorial. She would play up the tears and talk about me as if she'd actually miss me. I'm pretty sure she'd be relieved not to have the Knight family rebel to screw up her perfect image.

I'm not really a rebel, at least in the sense of hair being died all different colors, doing drugs and drinking alcohol, and failing school. No, I'm a rich kid rebel. Dresses in Old Navy clothes, never goes out, and a 4.0 student. The latter being the only acceptable in my family. According to my mom, I should be wearing top designer brands, going out every other weekend (you don't want to seem like an excessive partier, of course), and honors this, AP that. If staying up until midnight reading a book is considered un-proper, then yeah, I am a rebel.

So here I am, staring at my scratched up reflection. Chocolate brown eyes framed by thin black lashes (they used to be thick, but it's not hard to figure out what happened), high cheekbones not far under, a narrow nose dusted with freckles, full lips, and a strong jawline. The worst part to look at was my hair. Dark brown in color, and little in amount. It was very short. It basically only covered my head and that was it. I missed my long hair that cascaded down my back, so I made sure not to focus on it.

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><p>"Hello Lilac, dear," Jennifer greeted. She made being at the hospital a bit more bearable. She'd let me sit with her at the front desks whenever I wanted. We'd talk, and she would tell me about her three toddlers Jessica, Jaimie, and Jack. Her husband's name is James. They kind of had an obsession with the letter 'J'. Besides that, Jennifer was pretty normal. And she didn't dwell on my sickness, she acted as though I was healthy as a horse.<p>

"Hey Jens, how has this morning treated you?" This was how our days usually started. Nontrivial greetings accompanied by a comfortable friendship. It's kind of weird I'm friends with a thirty year old, but I wouldn't call her an aquatint, she was too kind for that. I'd often find myself wondering why she was working here. She was smart (scarily so), beautiful, and kind. Her beauty was not unnoticed. I had to deal with watching guys hit on her all the time. She was too sweet to say anything rude, so she would just discreetly flash her left hand. Jennifer had blonde hair that was cut in a neat bob, blue eyes, and a killer body. She was the stereotype of a blonde, at least physically. She wasn't an idiot.

"Good, good." And that was it. It was a Saturday morning, she had some patients to check in. I usually sat there like a creeper looking at everybody. There was Taylor Davis, Forks High's most valued basketball player, getting his soon-to-be bum knee checked out. He was about 6'1, brown eyes, blonde hair. He always had on this arrogant smile that made me want to slap the shit out of him. Every Saturday that he came here he'd eye me suspiciously, almost as if he recognized me. When I went to Forks High we had one class together: PE. He had probably nailed me in the gut with a dodgeball five times. Asshole.

Then there was Mr. and Mrs. Gray. The cutest freaking old couple I have ever seen in my life. Mr. Gray was suffering from some cholesterol problems. Mrs. Gray was absolutely hilarious about it, always telling him to eat Cheerios. But what was so adorable about them was, they were always holding hands. They loved each other, plain and simple. They came in every other Saturday, wearing the same content smiles.

Oh, and don't forget Mary. Ah, Mary. She'd been smoking thirty-five years, and nothing had happened. However, when she came in for a checkup, she was diagnosed with lung cancer. She honestly didn't even seem that affected. Mary was a bit . . . Crazy. She had to wear one of those caps to cover the hole over her throat, and she liked to scare people with it. It was a bit funny. She'd walk up to children, take off her scarf, and start talking. They'd always run away screaming. She wasn't _that_ scary. It was her facial expressions, and the crazy stories she would spout. I'm convinced she used to work for the circus.

"Lilac, how are you?" I turned my head to the pristine voice. Carlisle, the coolest doctor ever. He was about 5'10, he had blonde hair, and topaz eyes. Yup, topaz. They were pretty cool, but kind of creepy. Carlisle, from what I'd heard, had a wife (her name was Esme, and she was very, very kind), and had five adoptive kids. Edward, whom I heard married Chief Swan's daughter, Emmett, Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper. I'd actually seen them all, just hadn't met them personally. They had a very close knit group at school, only allowing Bella to sit with them at their table. They were all stunningly gorgeous, I had been surprised to find out they weren't related. They, including Carlisle and Esme, were all . . . Perfect. They even had the same eye color! But they weren't harming anyone, so I let my suspicions go. The only other weird thing about them was that they were all, like together. Together, _together_. Alice and Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie, and now Edward and Bella. The last couple wasn't so weird but . . . I don't know. I really didn't want to judge considering I barely knew them.

"Doctor Carlisle, I'm doing just dandy this fine February morning. How about yourself?" He chuckled. That's what I liked about Carlisle, when he laughed or smiled, I would instantly forget my suspicions. He was a kind man.

"I'm glad to hear that, Lilac. As for me, I'm doing quite well. Thank you for asking." Carlisle was a bit . . . Formal. I didn't mind, he reminded me of the Englishmen in my books.

"No problemo," I smiled. But he didn't smile back, more like stiffened.

"I'm sorry to leave you in such a hurry, but I should get going. More patients to treat. I'll see you soon, Lilac," he said brusquely, already heading to the elevator. It looks like someone forgot they're in the middle of brain surgery.

"Hello Billy, how are you?" I heard Jennifer ask. Oh, Billy. He was from the Native American tribe close by, the Quiliutes, I think. From the months I'd been in here, I knew he came here about once a month.

"I'm doing just fine, thanks Jennifer. How 'bout yourself?" Billy looked to be in about his mid forties. He would have been standing pretty tall, maybe about six feet, if it weren't for the fact that he was wheelchair bound. I'd learned that it was due to diabetes. He looked kind and wise, very wise. His long black — slightly gray — hair was topped with a worn cowboy hat. His eyes though, looked like they held many secrets.

"I'm doing great, thanks for asking. And may I ask who this young man is?" That snapped my attention away from Billy and to his companion. He usually brought a woman close to his age, Sue, if I recall right, with him. This guy was no Sue, that's for sure. He stood damn near seven feet tall, and was built with absolute power. Even with jean clad legs, I could still notice the muscles in them. His arms were like tree trunks, ending with big hands. He wasn't over muscled in that disgusting way, although I knew his body held more power than those with that kind of body did. He had broad shoulders and a wide chest, leading down to a toned stomach and narrow hips. He almost looked lean. His height made his mass of muscles balance, so they weren't all scrunched up into a huge blob of muscle. All of this was layered under a beautiful russet skin tone that had to look copper in the moonlight. His face was contorted into a glare, but he still looked painfully handsome nonetheless. He had a head full of thick and shaggy chin length hair, the same jet black as his eyebrows. Chocolate brown eyes darker than mine, placed under those deep set brows. A long narrow nose, plump and full lips, and a jaw sharper than mine.

Yeah, this definitely wasn't Sue.

"This is my son, Jacob," to his name being called, he turned his head away from the elevator.

"Oh, son! Well, hello Jacob. I'm glad that you could come here with your father. He talks about you a lot, you know. Good things, I assure you." Billy mentioned he had a son, but never really talked about him. If my son glared at elevators for no apparent reason, I wouldn't talk about him either.

He gave a small — not very sincere — smile, "Hi, dad talks about you too." His voice was very deep and husky. It left my ears tingling.

Jennifer smiled back — much more sincere, "Good things, I hope?" Jacob nodded his head. "Well, I knew Billy had kids, but not your age. He doesn't look a day over thirty," she chuckled.

"He's seventeen, as of last month," Billy interjected. Seeing our surprised faces he adds, "Kids grow like weeds these days."

"Yeah, they sure do! Well Billy, if you could just sign these, I can get Dr. Gold to come check you out."

While Billy was busy signing the papers, I felt someone's eyes on me. I glanced up and was met with the eyes of Jacob. I gasped. His eyes were full of emptiness. They held a broken heart and a lost soul. I was staring at eyes like that in the mirror mere hours ago. And then, they disappeared out of sight. He fell. To his knees. He fell to the ground, on his knees. Jennifer was quick to check on him. I stood up, looking down at his overwhelmed face, staring directly at my bewildered one.

"Jacob! Do you need water? Are you okay? Can you hear me?" Jennifer's frantic words barely touched my ears. I was still looking at the shocked face of Jacob. I switched my gaze to Billy, whose eyes were darting between me and his son, then suddenly lit with understanding. A slow smirk adjourned his face.

"I — I'm fine. T—thanks," Jacob breathed, standing to his feet. He still looked pretty shocked.

"Let's go get you some water, dear." With that, Jennifer led Jacob out of the room. He looked like he had seen something out of this world. And he was still staring at me with a weird look.

"So . . . That was awkward," I muttered to Billy.

"Yeah, just a bit. Excuse me if I'm being rude, but what is your name?" How was that rude? Oh, his son was just staring me down, and he doesn't want to seem like a creeper too.

I extended my hand, "Lilac," he raised his eyebrows, "yes, like the flower."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl." I wanted to tell him to stop bullshitting me, that I looked horrible, but I didn't. It had been so long since anyone had said that. I blushed a thank you. "So, what are you in for?" Did he seriously just ask that? Again, I wanted to yell at him, but I couldn't. He was blunt. It was like a breath of fresh air from all the sugarcoating.

"Cancer. Ewing's Sarcoma."

"Is it treatable?" He inquired.

"Yeah, it is. It's basically at the point where it could either go really bad, or turn really good. It's a waiting game, that's for sure." At the rate I'm going, it will probably go really bad.

"I'm sorry about my son, he's a bit, ugh, strange." I laughed.

"You know Billy, I've seen you in here a few times. I'm a bit mad at myself for not talking to you sooner. You're pretty cool." He grinned at me.

"I'm so sorry for that Billy, Jacob is just fine. He's laying down right now, and should be up and going in ten," Jens came in. Jacob was probably dehydrated. Maybe that's why he was staring at me, he was having hallucinations.

"No problem, Jennifer. I was actually enjoying myself here with Lilac," Billy stated. Wow, someone enjoyed my company. Billy must be as crazy as his son.

"Lilac is quite the charmer, isn't she?" I snorted. "Well Billy, thanks for signing everything, Dr. Gold should be right out." For some reason unknown to me, Billy refused to see Dr. Cullen. He was the best doctor we had.

"Thank you Jennifer, and I'll be seeing you soon Lilac," Billy said. He probably wouldn't, but it was a kind gesture.

"Yeah, see you soon."

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><p>It'd been about twenty minutes since Jacob flipped out, and I haven't seen him yet. He probably found some other way out, or just went looking for his dad. Which might be hard considering he wasn't here when Dr. Gold took him to his room. Now Jacob is probably searching every room looking for him. He could've just asked Jennifer. Imbecile. He's probably embarrassed by his little freak out. I would be too.<p>

"Jennifer? Jennifer? Jennifer!"

"Yes, Lilac?" She wasn't even annoyed. I'll tell you, she's too kind for her own good sometimes.

"Can I have two dollars, please?" I really wanted a Three Musketeers bar. The vending machine was only three halls over.

"Why?"

"I want a Three Musketeers bar," I stated bluntly. It was pretty obvious, I don't know why she always asked why.

She sighed, "Did you already have breakfast?" I nodded my head vigorously. "Something healthy, I presume?" Again, I nodded my head. She sighed again, "Fine." She reached for her purse and pulled out a worn leather wallet. Too nice, I tell you.

"Thanks Jens, I owe you," I usually gave her the expensive chocolates my 'friends' would send me. She was a sucker for Godiva.

The long hallways never got any less creepier. I almost had a panic attack the first few times I'd walk through here. It's gotten much easier with time. It took me awhile to get to the vending machine considering every step hurt like a bitch. Maybe I should have taken the wheelchair they offered. I would have to be really weak to actually accept it.

What I liked about this particular hallway was, no one ever walked through it. It was creepy as hell, accompanied by a few flickering lights. The floor was also unnaturally cold, even to my fuzzy sock clad feet. I was convinced this hallway was haunted. I don't know why, of all places, they'd place a vending machine here. Talk about bad business.

I slipped in the two dollar bills and typed the numbers for my candy. I had it memorized. I ignored how my hand slightly shook from the effort. I was pathetic.

"Hey," came a husky voice from behind me.

I must've jumped ten feet. "Wholly shit! Are you trying to scare me? I almost died of a heart attack!" I turned around to glare at the asshole, but I stopped dead in my tracks. It was Jacob.

"I — I'm sorry. I — I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Jacob," he apologized, offering his huge hand to me. I looked up at his face, yes, up. I stood a couple inches below his collar bone. He looked incredibly sincere. And nervous. The hand not outstretched to me was rubbing the back of his neck.

I slowly slid my hand into his, partially from hesitance, and partially from pain. "Lilac," I offered. I tried to ignore the sparks that shot up my arm, or the fact that the pain that I had become so used to dulled considerably. His hand was very big, practically swallowing mine whole. And warm, really warm.

"Lilac," he repeated. I tried not to shiver. My name never sounded better. What the hell was wrong with me? Must be the lack of chocolate. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasures mine," I told him, slipping my hand out of his. Every cancerous cell in my body protested. I then went to retrieve my chocolate bar. I tried very hard not to grimace from bending down, but from the look on Jacob's face, it was a wasted effort. However, he didn't say anything.

Deciding I needed to sit down, I took the few steps to a — very conveniently placed — set of chairs. The plushy kind, not those horrible stiff ones.

Again, I struggled to not show my pain as I was sitting down, and like earlier, my face probably made me unsuccessful. Jacob placed and easing hand on my back. The pain almost instantly dissipated. "Thanks," I whispered. I wasn't usually perverse to being helped out. But the people who tried to help me didn't have healing hands.

"No problem," he said. I didn't feel comfortable eating my candy bar with him watching. I hated when people watched me eat food. It was weird. A few silent moments later, "Lilac?" I hummed to let him know I was listening. "W—what are you here for? You don't have to answer if you don't want to." I'd been asked this question many times, yet it was still hard to admit it. To admit how weak I was. I really didn't have to say it, you could see it.

"I have Ewing's Sarcoma Cancer." Five words that can make any conversation awkward. I turned my head to see his expression. I wish I hadn't. It was devastated. I didn't know why he'd care.

"I — I — are you gonna be okay?" Somehow, he picked up on the fact that I didn't like sympathy.

"I don't know. It's at the stage where it could go really bad, or really good. I just have to wait," I'd said around the same thing to many people. I wasn't lying. I just didn't tell them it was probably going to go bad. Jacob looked pretty heartbroken. And kind of pissed off. "Why do you have that look on your face?"

"What look?" That look that is confusing the hell out of me. You don't know me, why are you sad? Why do you care?

"Well, you look sad and angry. For like, no apparent reason."

"Your just too good of a person to be here," he answered. What the hell? Good?

"You don't even know me. How would you know? I could be the filthiest human being in the hospital." I wasn't, that was Mr. Beck, he smelt like rotten eggs and year old garbage.

"I'm an . . . Excellent judge of character." Smooth Jacob, smooth.

"Well, I am in here. Probably will be until I die. A good or bad person. It doesn't matter." Jesus, I sure knew how to put a damper on things. Jacob's expression changed. He looked curious, more like he was trying to figure me out. It should have made me uncomfortable, but the fact that he was even taking the time to try to, was flattering.

"What are you fighting for?" Wholly shit being blunt seriously ran in the family. No one, and I mean _no one_ had ever asked me that.

"I don't know, nothing really seems worth the fight anymore," I answered honestly. His facial expression stayed the same, it was deep, and very intense.

"Well, we'll have to change that." What was up with this guy?

"How?" I honestly couldn't think of anything worth it anymore.

"I'm gonna show you that there are things worth fighting for." He has got to be kidding me.

"And how are you going to do that?" He smiled, this time a very sincere one.

"Can I visit you tomorrow?" I was dumbfounded. What the hell? Why in the world would he want that?

"U—Ugh, yeah, I — I mean if you want," of course he wants to he just fucking asked if he could. Wait, maybe he doesn't want to, maybe it's out of sympathy. I searched his eyes, there was no trace of sympathy. Only a sparkle that glinted dangerously. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. That only made it all the more intriguing.

"Good," Jacob sat up from the chair next to me. "We should get back, my dad is probably done by now," he said. "Now let's get you back to your spinning chair by Jennifer," he scooped me up in his arms. My arms immediately locked around his neck.

"Jacob! What are you doing?" Seriously dude! And how did he know about my beloved chair? He must've been paying more attention than I thought.

"What kind of man would I be to let you walk back there?" His right arm was locked securely under my knees, while his left was placed under my back. He was really warm. And comfy. I would never admit that to him.

"A smart one." He chuckled, a glorious sound. What happened to the shadow of a boy? "What did Jennifer give you?" I asked, while he carried me. He looked at me funny, so I elaborated. "When you came in earlier you were . . . Upset. Now you're all in good spirits." Maybe he had a bipolar disorder?

"Oh, that. I was just upset because I lost a friend. My best friend. She died, in a way," he said quietly. Huh, some friend. Made one hell of an impression to get that look on his face. More like an almost lover. "But, it seems I made a new one."

"I wouldn't go that far." By the time we reached Jennifer, Billy was already there checking out. They both turned their heads towards us. Billy smiled, and Jens gaped. I didn't normally let people help me. She knew that.

Jacob placed me in the infamous spinning chair with such grace, I was shocked. He was so big you would think he'd be clumsy.

"Thank you Jacob, that was very kind of you to help Lilac like that," Jennifer said.

"No problem. I'll see you tomorrow, Lilac?" Jacob asked. I felt Jennifer's shock. Billy didn't seem that surprised, more smug than anything.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow Jacob," I confirmed. The lost feeling of anticipation slowly flooded me. He grinned in response — something absolutely breathtaking. It was like the sun broke through the mass of gray clouds I'd confined myself in. I found it in myself to smile back, my dimples making their first appearance since October.

With that, Jacob pushed Billy out, giving me one last smile before he was gone.

"What was that about?" Jens broke me out of my reverie. What _was_ that about? I found myself not caring.

"I don't know."

My fate had inadvertently changed forever.

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><p><strong>AN: whatcha think? I hope everyone likes it! This is such a stark different personality from what I'm used to writing. And Lilac's hair is like Alice's hair in Breaking Dawn Part 1 and 2. Thanks for all of the support! :)**


	3. A Permanent Figure

**A/N: I'm so terribly sorry about this late update. I've just been ridiculously busy. A lot of crap has been going on lately, and with the end of the year, I'm getting antsy for summer. I plan to write a lot in the summer, so don't worry. And then there was my birthday and I was too tired to write after that! Swimming all day gets tiering. :)**

**PLEASE READ THIS PART!: okay, so if you are reading this I have a question. I have two paths for this story. Either one I take, they'll be relatively the same, I have a bunch of ideas for both. SHOULD LILAC AND JACOB BECOME A COUPLE SOON OR NOT SOON? Lol if that makes sense. Basically what I'm asking is: SHOULD THEY HAVE A SLOW BURN, OR AN INSTANT LOVE CONNECTION? I'm down for writing either. I have sooo many ideas. Just tell me what you think, please.**

**Thanks for all of the support, it means sooooo much. The follows, favorites, and reviews mean the world to me.**

**Thank you for reviewing:** _reader5sam, _guest (guest), _NeRd999, _wolfhapiness, and_ FallToJupiter_

**Oh, btw, sorry for any grammar errors. I'm a terrible editor.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all of its characters. :)**

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><p><em>A Permanent Figure<em>

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><p>This is absolutely ridiculous. What the hell am I doing? All for what, a boy?<p>

Okay, I'm being a bit melodramatic. Fixing my hair — or what's left of it — isn't exactly something stupid. Now if I was going to, I don't know, kill his hypothetical girlfriend so that no one would be in the way of our love, then I would have the right to use that expression.

All for a boy. Please, it wasn't all for him. Maybe I wanted to look nice. It just so happened to be the day Jacob was . . . Visiting me. I wasn't even sure if he was coming or not. He was extremely unpredictable. Glaring at elevators, sneaking up on me buying candy, carrying me down hallways — what's next?

And maybe a small, insufficient part of me was screaming that I liked his unpredictability. That I yearned for it. And that same part was intrigued by his slightly mysterious nature. I wanted to make him a puzzle, discover all the pieces, then put them together. I wonder what image I would see.

Well, the image I was seeing now certainly wasn't exactly what I pictured. I dropped the comb — it was a useless thing anyways — and ran my fingers through my hair a few times. It came out with a slight bed head look. That definitely beat the desperate idiot look I was sporting earlier.

It sort of felt like I was going on my first date all over again, except I didn't like, let alone know, Jacob. It was just that same feeling. A never ending anxiousness that caused my hands and feet to clam up. My poor bottom lip had been chewed raw. And the swarm of butterflies just thinking about the handsome guy was insurmountable. Jacob definitely beat out Danny — my first date ever. He was hot, but Jacob was seriously something out of "Fifty Shades of Gray" or something. Not that I'd ever read it.

My eyes trailed back to my reflection. The bags that had been tattooed there were slightly darker than usual. I was up most of the night trying to make sense of the possible enigma that was Jacob. I couldn't possibly fathom why he would want to waste his time with me. If I was someone he knew previously, sure, but since that wasn't the case, I couldn't comprehend him.

It was still one of the kindest things I'd been bestowed upon here. Just the fact that he offered meant a lot. Not to mention there wasn't a trace of sympathy in his eyes. I couldn't handle that. I was seriously sick and tired of that look. Just because I have cancer doesn't give you the excuse to pity me. I didn't want it, nor ask for it. So don't give it.

All I really wanted was support. Would it really kill you to give me some bullshit motivational speech about how I'm gonna be perfectly fine? At least then I'd know — I'd know you actually gave a damn.

I pushed the negative aside. I was done mulling over the same thoughts day after day in this sterilized prison cell.

I really didn't want to wear my hospital gown today, for two reasons. One, I was getting irritated with the same old stiff fabric. Two, I didn't want to risk Jacob seeing my underwear or back. Though mundane, I'd like to keep my business to myself. That teenage girl part of me got butterflies thinking about Jacob seeing me so . . . Bare. But honestly, I wasn't how I used to be. Curvy yet toned, morphed into skin and bones.

I wasn't an icon for sex appeal at the moment.

* * *

><p>I had no idea when Jacob was coming to visit, but it was still barely 10 A.M, so I wasn't expecting him just yet. I perched myself on the hosptal bed — which was actually the most luxurious thing in the room — and clicked on the T.V. It was already on Spongebob so I decided to leave it. Although completely immature, I still loved the show. Coincidentally, it was playing my favorite episode. The "I'm Dirty Dan, No I'm Dirty Dan" episode. I felt myself smile. Everything almost felt like it was okay.<p>

Almost.

As the episodes passed I felt myself getting antsier. It was almost like a scary movie, the suspense just building and building until — bam! It reaches its peak. Well, I was seriously about to reach my peak — no pun intended.

I remember how hilarious sexual innuendos used to be. Hannah and I would crack up if the gas price was 3.69$. Or the "that's what she said" jokes. Even the "in bed" jokes. I miss being a teenager without a worry in the world, laughing at things so immature. I miss even seeing the damn gas prices — which is completely bizarre because of the bullshit that is the gas prices.

I especially miss driving. I used to hate it, always fearing that I'd somehow crash and cause a seven car pile up and kill everyone. I wasn't exactly confident in my abilities. I remember being upset that I wasn't in the virtual world of Grand Theft Auto where I could run over everyone, and they'd still miraculously start walking down the street again. But, now that I think back to how driving made me feel — really feel — I miss it. That feeling of control and freedom. Control because I was driving the car, I could predict every move I made. And freedom just knowing that I could drive away at any moment. Far, far away.

My head snapped up from a sudden knocking sound so fast I think I pulled a muscle. I started kneading it as I yelled, "Come in!"

Heavy footsteps — a lot heavier than Jens — touched my ears. At my vocal approval, the door slowly opened. And then there was Jacob, in all his glory, standing there with a box in his hands. I glanced at the T.V. clock — 12:15 P.M. I knew it. He was unpredictable. I mean seriously, who shows up at lunch time?

I think he must've seen the surprise on my face because he asks, "What, were you expecting someone else?" Well, now that you mention it I was really hoping Jens would come in with what the hospital likes to call 'lunch,' but is actually shit. Except for the cake. Damn all if the cake wasn't that from the heavens.

"No, I just didn't expect you to come. Especially with a gift." I knew the box in his hands wasn't a gift, but I decided pulling his leg would be fun. He just smiled in response, which was strangely beautiful. It lit up the room as if I'd just opened curtains on a warm and sunny day. I had to blink my eyes a few times to get used to its brightness.

In the few seconds that it took for me to get used to the sudden appearance of the sun, my thoughts had wondered off to Hannah. Although a lot more bubbly than Jacob, her smile wasn't nearly that bright. And that was saying something. Her smile and her laugh would cause my dying heart to warm. But one smile from Jacob and my whole body was left on fire. I was used to being so cold all the time, so I easily accepted it.

"I'm not sure if I'd call this," he said gesturing to the box I now recognized as the game of checkers, "a gift." Checkers? What the hell? I voiced my thoughts. "Well, I figured it would be pretty awkward to just come here without anything to do . . . So I thought, 'You know, Lilac sure seems like a checkers kind of gal.' And that's why I brought checkers." Was this guy serious. I couldn't help but laugh at his dorky-ness. It was also, maybe, just a bit smart. I would have definitely been awkward.

"How'd you figure that I was 'a checkers kind of gal,' anyways?" I was curious. How the hell can someone be someone who plays checkers? Is there, like, a check list? And even if there was I would have assumed the qualifications to be checked off on that list would be — and not to be stereotypical — nerdy.

I mean, I wasn't an idiot, but I sure as hell wasn't nerdy. I had what I liked to call 'natural intelligence.' I got things pretty quickly, I understood it, then I B'd or Aced a test. The definition — at least my definition — was a naturally smart person who worked for more intelligence. Someone who studied a lot. And then there was that whole glasses, shy personality, dorky clothes, and sucky at sports stereotypical outlook, plus the whole smart part. I didn't have those either.

I had hawk vision, not to brag or anything. It was very useful driving — especially when I was in unfamiliar territory depending on poor directions. And shy? I could be shy, at times, usually with the male population. Other than that I was pretty unabashed. If you were pissing me off, more than likely I'd tell you. As for my sense of fashion, it wasn't anything I would call 'fashionista material,' but I wasn't wearing suspenders or jeans from the 70s. I preferred converse, American Eagle jeans (don't ask me to wear any other brand. One, I'd feel like I was cheating on it. And two, they look fucking amazing on me, so I'm pretty content with them), which I considered my guilty pleasure, and cute tops. I wasn't a pattern person at all. I hated stripes and polka dots with a passion. Ugh. And last, but definitely not least, I was not sucky at sports. Of course, now I couldn't lift my hand up without feeling a singe of pain, which wouldn't help in physical situations such as sports for obvious reasons.

Before the shit hit the fan, I was Varsity volleyball team captain at Forks High. Again, not to brag or anything, but I was pretty fucking amazing at the sport. I was up for a full ride to Washington State before I became an almost cripple.

I wasn't really fond of thinking about that stuff. It was almost like an unrequited love. I never got the chance to see what could've been. I felt cheated. Even if I recovered, there was absolutely no way I'd be able to play again. If I did, I wouldn't be a quarter as good as I was.

I missed the game. The feeling of the ball hitting my arms, over and over again. The skim of it on my fingertips as I set it.

_Left, right, left, SLAM!_

Although I wasn't nearly the tallest, I could sure as hell spike the ball like nobody's business.

Jacob's reply to the question that brought this inner analysis brought me out of my reverie. "I dunno. You seem extremely complicated, but at the same time, ridiculously simple," he confessed. I wasn't sure if that was a compliment.

I didn't think so.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I growled accusingly.

He held up his hands in surrender, "I—I didn't mean any harm! You just come across as a mystery. Complicated. But I have a feeling that you're actually simple," he explains. He seriously loves digging himself in a hole, huh? I think he read the death glare on my face because he suddenly looked ten times less confident, and thirty times more bashful.

"You realize calling me simple is equivalent to saying I'm plain, right?"

"Plain?" He blurts confusingly. "No, no — not even close. You're gorgeous." Okay, although that is not what I mean, I could not help the light blush that touched my cheeks. A seriously hot guy said that I was gorgeous. He was probably lying, but he looked so damn earnest, I couldn't help but believe him. He must be one hell of a liar, then.

"Jacob," I sighed, "as much as your compliment has inflated my ego, that wasn't what I meant. I meant that it sounded like you were saying my personality was dull, boring — plain," I told him. It was kind of adorable how oblivious he was. Kind of.

Okay, it was really adorable.

"Oh, n—no! I said simple, not plain. It's just that you come across as this . . . I don't know, Algebra book. Complicated and full of equations that you just want to solve and get over with. But really, you're like a Dr. Suess book. Everything's laid out there — simple. But it's still beautiful and creative, and you want to read it over, and over again."

What.

The.

Fuck?

Wholly shit.

Mother of pearl.

How could I be mad at that? I wasn't sure this . . . Relationship(?) would work. I mean, if he would say sappy shit like that when I was mad, then I was a goner. He'd get away with everything. Except cheating on me or something.

Woah, woah, woah! We weren't even close to that type of relationship. I wouldn't mind if we were though . . .

Oh, come on. He was hot.

The previous bashful look had slowly dissipated into a slightly — more relieved though — smile. He looked like he almost knew that I was internally battling with myself about whether he was a potential mate or not. I externally snorted. Mate. Ugh, we weren't animals. Maybe he was — at least in bed.

Oh.

My.

God.

I decided to speak before my thoughts could wander any further. "I can't really be mad at you when you say something annoyingly sweet as that." In response, he smiled. And it was — it was gorgeous. It was real, and open, and honest, and genuine. It made his whole face lighter, and instead of looking twenty-five, he looked his real age. Seventeen, just like me. His eyes were bright and happy, so dark, they almost seemed black. But the lightness that reflected from them cued me that they had a golden shine to them. A beautiful hazel.

For a second I envied him. He was in tip-top shape, beautiful, carefree, and happy. But as soon as the emotion appeared, it left. I couldn't envy him. It was wrong.

Almost as if he owned the place, Jacob strolled over to the little table next to the huge window on the left hand wall, and dropped the box of checkers on the elevated square. "Nice view you've got here," he commented.

And a nice view it was. Since my parents were loaded they got me one of the best long-term rooms available. To be honest, I didn't even need to be here at this hospital, day after day, night after night. But since mom insisted that a child of hers would be receiving the best possible care, I was stuck here. The room had some nice chairs to stay on for hours (if my family actually had regular visits), and the T.V. was pretty big. I'd say thirty-five inches. And HD. The little table that Jacob had occupied was there for if I felt like eating as a normal person again. At a table. Sitting down. On a chair.

The view was from about the middle of the hospital. I couldn't be on the bottom floors — much to my dismay — and I flat out refused the top ones. You could say I had a bit if a height aversion. We were on the right side of the building, giving us a good look into the forest. It wasn't like you could see very far into it, but it was almost enchanting to look into it.

"Yeah, it is."

He very well couldn't just play checkers alone, so I slowly swung my legs over the bed, internally screaming at the movement. When my feet were firmly on the ground, I was ready to start towards the table when I felt a hand on my back. Startled, I looked up. Jacob.

He was going to help me over to the table. Because I obviously couldn't slide out of bed and walk the ten feet to it without flinching.

I was going to yell at him, protest that I didn't need his help, when I truly felt his hand. I—It felt . . . good. Nice. The pain that was there had dulled, no more than a small ache.

Did this guy have healing hands, because what the fuck?

Not that I minded.

Sucking up my pride I looked up at him — and damn was he tall — and said, "Thank you." He smiled down at me, looking like he knew I didn't normally let people help me. But something about him weakened my resolve.

I didn't like it.

First it was when he picked me up and walked me to Jens, and now this. I really hope this doesn't turn into a recurring thing.

"How tall are you?" I blurted. I reached what looked like to be the top of his pec. Okay, I knew it was. His tight maroon sweater left no room to imagination, and damn was he in some serious shape. He was one healthy young boy, that's for sure. I could see the line of his si— eight pack. Wholly shit. And his arms were huge, just pure muscle. Fuck getting punched by this guy. Although I could clearly see all this muscle, it wasn't . . . Too much. He was so tall, all of it balanced out perfectly. He was one of those guys with this amazing body, and narrow hips and it was really hot.

He was really hot.

No, really. He was hot. I could feel the heat coming off of him in waves, but he looked healthy.

To make this situation worse, Jacob decided to be a gentleman and pull my chair out for me, and then slowly push it in.

Hehe, that's what she said.

You see what hot guys do to me? I mean, fuck, enough with the sexual innuendos.

"To answer your question, I'm 6'7," he says, taking his seat across from me.

"Well, damn. I was 5'5 and three quarters, but after . . . Everything I shrunk to 5'3 and a half." I think it had more to do with mom constantly telling me not to slouch.

_Flashback._

_Another family dinner. I don't even know why mom tries, I mean, honestly, we've done this how many times?_

_"So, Lilac, how's school, dear?" Aunt Emily asks me. Although she's as formal as mom, she isn't as much of a bitch. Unless you piss her off._

_"It's great. Volleyball is more fun than ever," I knew better than to say 'funner' with mom in the room. "We've got a freshman on our team this year, and she's great. I can't wait to work with her, show her how us Varsity gals do it," I answer. Steph Rogers was going to be a run for my money. I'd seen her play, but there were a few technicalities I'd like to tweak. I could spot a players weakness after one bump._

_"Lilac, honey, this is a family dinner, try not talking about yourself next time." Oh, is that my charming mom chastising me again?_

_"Well, excuse me for answering a question that was directed to me, Nancy." I loved calling her by her first name, I knew it always pissed her off. I knew it would always push her so close to breaking. I'd pay anything to see her flip out, and not be so fucking poised all the time._

_"Mom, call me _mom_, please." I looked into her calculating brown eyes. She had a naturally stern expression, but when people were around she was always the dear, sweet housewife. The innocent look was so convincing, she almost had me fooled._

_If only those sweet doe eyes weren't evaluating my every move._

_"Nancy, darling, let's talk about something else! Lacy, how was Savannah's birthday party? She turned ten, and it's almost your turn. You excited?" Leave it to dad to try to cool the situation down. I had no idea why he was with my mom. He was so laid back, and kind and nice, and actually cared about us._

_If only he wasn't so in love with my mom._

_Who knows why? I sure as hell don't._

_"It was sooo fun! Mrs. Wilds had a karaoke machine set up and we sang to Hannah Montana for hours! She recorded it, so we can all watch it together sometime! Oh, and dad I can't wait until my birthday! I — I know it's a lot to ask for, but I was hoping me and— Savannah and I could go to a Hannah Montana concert together? Please! Lilac could supervise, well, only if she wants to." Oh, God. Not Hannah Montana. But as I looked at her chocolate brown doe eyes that matched my mom's own, minus the sharpness and edge, I couldn't say no._

_"I wouldn't mind chaperoning, Lacy."_

_"That's very sweet of you, Lilac. You'll have to take lots of pictures for me," Emily comments. At least someone related to my mom appreciates my existence._

_"Yeah, it is. I'll think about it, Lacy. But there's a very high chance for it. If only I received a kiss, maybe that'd make it a done deal," dad hints. He used to do the same to me. He still did it, on the rare occasion I asked for anything._

_Quicker than light, Lacy pushed out of her chair and bound over to the head of the table. She was assaulting dad with kisses. I saw mom's disapproving look, and internally snorted. I knew she'd never say anything, she loved Lacy. She'd never. She didn't want another screw up like me._

_"Lilac, stop slouching. By the time you're my age you will be the Hunchback of Notre Dame. How many times do I have to tell you?" I wonder who that was._

_Bitch._

"Shall we get this game started, then?"

* * *

><p>"You fucking cheater! I trusted you! I thought we could have a civilized game of checkers, and you ruined it!" This bastard had nerve. Oh, if I could I would kick his ass. I'd kick it so hard that my foot would—<p>

"I didn't cheat! All I did was corner you! It's called being a strategist!"

"_All _you did? That was wrong! Who plays checkers like that? Usually you just move the checker random places and move it other random places when you see that your opponent is on to you! B—but corner me? That's cold. I'm telling you, that was cheating!"

"Isn't checkers a game of strategy? Like chess? Isn't checkers a stupid-people version of chess? I—I didn't cheat. I didn't break any rules — however the hell you do that!"

"You know what Jacob, what just happened was obviously cheating. You can deny it all you want, but I know you did."

He had to corner me. I was going to make a huge double move on him when he cornered me and did a double move on me. _Me_! I had him, and he cheated.

He probably didn't cheat, but is wouldn't let my pride take the hit. He wasn't very cunning about cornering me. My ego just got in the way. I thought I was a master at checkers.

Turns out playing your little sister isn't a very accurate way to judge your skill level.

"Lilac, how do you walk these halls? I'm sure your ego takes up most of it. Maybe now that I've knocked it down a few pegs, people could actually get through them." The nerve of this boy. Man. Boy-man.

"I'll have you know that I could barely breathe in this room before you had to destroy my ego. It's sensitive, you know." I did have quite the ego. Especially back before this shit. It got me in trouble, that's for sure.

Jacob laughs, which I really like. It's a nice, warm sound. Alive. "Yeah, I know." He glances at the clock on the T.V., "Damn, I should get going. I've got some . . . Stuff to do. I had a really good time, Lilac." Damn. No. It was kind of funny how I opposed his being here, and now he has to leave, and I oppose that too. His last statement sounded like what you'd say at the end of a date.

Ridiculous.

"O—okay. Yeah, that's fine. I did, too. Thanks for coming." I didn't want to say 'see you later,' because that would imply that I wanted to see him again. Maybe this was a one time thing.

I tried to memorize his face before he left. He had a strong forehead — maybe he was stubborn — over bushy black brows that framed his deep set eyes. Those were over a straight nose that I envied. How can someone have a perfect nose? I mean come on, it was a nose! And his lips. I just wanted to kiss them. They were nice and plump. Very kissable. I'd kissed two guys in my pathetic life. One had very thin lips (not pleasant at all), and the other had . . . Average lips. I could tell from those two experiences that I'd like a guy with full lips. Definitely not New Jersey girl lips, but full and natural. Keyword: natural.

Jacob just looked natural, real. His skin was a russet color, a beautiful brown, with slight undertones of red. It looked so soft over his hard body. And his jet black hair left my fingers aching to run through it. That looked soft too.

Everything about him screamed, 'I'm a Native American prince.' From his looks to his demeanor — which was very warm but still oozed confidence.

But not conceit.

Yeah, so, Jacob was fucking hot.

"It really wasn't a problem. I had a lot of fun," he told me walking to the door. Just when he was about to leave I noticed he'd left the checkers box.

"Wait!" He turns around, and by now I was standing five feet behind him. "You forgot the checkers box," I say indicating my thumb over my shoulder to the table.

"No, I didn't. I figured you'd want a rematch. See you later, Lilac." And with that, Jacob had become a permanent figure in my life.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: so I hope you guys enjoyed it. I love writing this story. Lilac is such a character, that's for sure. My portrayal of Jacob? Good, not good? Any critiques? They're all welcome.**

**I'd like to thank you guys for the support (again, but you guys deserve it). You all keep me going.**

**Also, I've got some story ideas if anyone is interested in Divergent or Teen Wolf. Just PM me for any questions. I'd love to get your opinions on them! **

**Oh, and don't forget to please give me your opinions on what I should do with Lilac and Jacob. Slow burn, or instant love connection?**

**Thanks for reading. :) **

**okay, sorry if the italics, bold, and what not is jacked up. Fanfiction is not cooperating with me. **

**Edited 5/23/14 really close to 5/24. Wow this chapter had so many mistakes I just had to come and fix them. They were really irritating. I hope I didn't miss any. :) **


	4. Jens

**A/N: hey y'all! I don't have much to say . . . But hey!**

**Thanks for everyone who followed/favorited/reviewed. I've gotten so much great input, like wow. Thanks.**

**Thank you for reviewing: **_x-shutter-bug-x,_guest (guest)**, **_wolfhapiness_**, **JacobxLilac4ever (guest)**, **_lightbabe_**, **Chelsea (guest)**, **_Blerina07_**, **Extreme Wolf Girl**, **_Laura (guest)_**.**

**IMPORTANT!: Okay, a lot of you have questioned my timeline. This story is set after Breaking Dawn. After the confrontation with the Volturi. Yes, Renesmee is in this story. No, none of the wolves have imprinted on her. Why she is still alive will be explained more in the future. Yes, the Cullen's are still in Forks. Yes, there will be drama with them, but no way in hell will they be my focus. So the current date of this story, starting this chapter, is the beginning of March, 2007. So this is a month or two after the Volturi drama. Jacob is seventeen years old. His birthday was January 14th. So he has just turned seventeen.**

**If you guys have anymore questions, feel free to comment them or PM me. :) I hope I answered a lot of them.**

**I got so much input on the slow burn or instant connection question. Basically all of you said slow burn, and I was completely ready to do that. And then, shoutout to them,_ Extreme Wolf Girl _said an instant love connection. Her reasoning was like WOW. So I've discussed it with her, and thought about it myself, and have decided to meet somewhere in the middle. I don't want to say the exact timeline, but it's quite long. A bit shorter than it would've been if I'd decided to do the full slow burn. But honestly, I think the times I've set are still very slow, so when all is said and done, I hope everyone is happy. :)**

**This chapter is definitely a filler. A lot of important things are discussed and thought about. You get to learn a lot on out Lilac.**

**Again, thanks to everyone who continues to support me. I love you guys!**

**Also, I might take to adding quotes, song lyrics, etc. I hope y'all don't mind. :)**

**Disclaimer: Everything created by Stephenie Meyer belongs to her, not me. I only own my OCs.**

* * *

><p><em>~I Just Wanna Run~<em>

_Like a game of chess_

_I predict your move_

_I think I know you better_

_Better than you do_

_I'm sick of feeling cheap_

_Cheated and abused_

_Sick of losing sleep_

_Thinking about you_

_-The Downtown Fiction_

* * *

><p><em>Jens<em>

* * *

><p>"What are you drawing today, Lilac?" I jumped in my chair, turning my neck so fast I think I pulled a muscle. The frightened jump and sharp turn caused a series of aches within my body. Shit.<p>

"Nothing, Jens," I reply rubbing that infuriating lump in my side. I tried to hide the pain because knowing Jens she'd probably flip out if she knew I was hurting.

Apparently I can't be an actress.

"O—oh god! Lilac, honey, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? On a scale of one to ten how bad is the pain? Do I need to get Carlisle? I —"

"Jennifer! I'm fine, really. Nothing I can't handle. It's an easy four. No, you don't need to get Carlisle. I'm sure he has more important things to take care of." Like people in comas, or brain surgery, or even a broken limb. I wasn't that important. All those other people had a chance to live, my life was taken from me the minute I stepped into this damned place.

"Well, I'm really sorry. I'm sorry I scared you. You were just in the zone — really, really in the zone." Yes, I was. Keyword: was. "Here's your morning medications, and breakfast. Pills after food, Lilac." Seriously it was one time. I only barfed for a couple hours, no biggie. "I got Bertha to give you some cake, which wasn't hard considering she adores you."

"Jens, it's fine, really," I say still soothing my side. "Thanks for this — bringing me everything. I could've gotten it myself, but as you were saying I was in the zone. And of course Bertha loves me, who doesn't?" My mom, Coach Cragen from gym, Tina from the diner, Tim on the debate team. "We formed a special bond over our mutual love for pastries. No one understood her, but I did. So of course she'll give me cake for breakfast. It would be an impertinence if she did not, Jens."

Coach Cragen hates me because I refused to join the swim team. Forks high was in desperate need of a swim trophy, and he thought I was its ticket. Well, fuck wearing that bathing suit and swim cap and holding my breath for so long. I liked to swim, but not competitively. Coach didn't get that. So of course he made P.E a living hell.

Tina from the diner doesn't understand what polite means. I asked for a new water because my cup had a dead bug in it. She gave me one, and walked away. Didn't say sorry. But before that, she didn't greet me or Hannah when we sat down. It wasn't like the place was busy. So right off the bat I was pissed off. Then she doesn't seem to care that she gave me water with a bug in it. Classy. So being the bitch I am, I left a penny as a tip.

Tim on the debate team can eat shit and die in a hole. He got pissed off when I was defending women's rights. He's an active non-feminist. Saying that we need to go back to the old days where you could beat your wife with a stick, but it couldn't be thicker than the husband's thumb. _Women are good at few things: nurturing, cooking, cleaning, and sex. The latter of which is debatable. Because let's be honest gentleman, we are the ones doing all of the work, like always. So instead of sex, I'll say procreation. Ah, never mind, we're still doing all the work there, too._ I almost killed him. I wasn't on the debate team, but this ass-hat was saying these things in English. Apparently Mr. Issac wanted us to discuss a quote from a book that I don't remember. Tim decided to broadcast his opinion to the entire class. So I did too. _Tim, don't you know? Men are too, good at few things. Arrogance, stupidity, and illusions. Because let's be honest ladies, men — especially the arrogant and stupid ones — are quite good at coming up with the illusion that they are actually needed. For sex, all a lady needs is a great book. As for procreation, you are mistaken if you think you are the supplement of that. Look at Virgin Mary. All she needed was God. No man. No semen._ Yeah, we were kicked out of that class faster than you can say _fuck you_. In all honesty, I think that this was Tim's own way of coming out of the closet.

"You are truly something else, Lilac," Jens similes fondly, breaking me out of my thoughts. I had a long list of enemies. "So, honey, what are you drawing today?"

I looked down at the thick paper in my worn notebook. It was full of drawings going back years. I, at first, rarely drew in the old, black leather book until I was sure of my skills. Dad got it for me when I was fourteen. He had gotten me one when I was twelve, after he noticed how much I doodled on my homework, but mom . . .

I loved drawing, and everything that was drawn in there was something I was fond of. Dad, Lacy, Hannah, Jens, beaches, star-y nights, red roses, certain native princes . . . It was funny that drawing, which was something I loved, broke the bond I had with someone I loved even more.

"Nothing," I say quickly, covering up the paper with my hands.

"Let me see, please. I always love looking at your work." Her bright blue eyes were so sincere I couldn't not let her see. So, I slowly slid my hands down until they were positioned in my lap. I didn't look at her face when she saw the drawing. I hated that. I didn't want to ever see the complete and utter distaste I'd once seen . . . "Oh, Lilac, is that — is that really how you see him?"

"What do you mean, Jennifer?"

"I _mean_," she says, putting an exasperated emphasis, "do you really see Jacob like that? With that much detail and intensity? This is so . . . Ardently drawn, I — just wow." I didn't know what to say. Her face was — I dare say — awestruck. I then looked at my portrait of Jacob. Every detail of his face was burned into my mind. Every curve, every groove, every color. Of course the drawing was passionately done. No one had ever elicited such feelings from me, I needed to get them out. This was my only way to. But this drawing was bit more than my usual portraits. Those were drawn in pencil, or black and white, with an ink pen. Jacob's was in full vividness. Someone so absolutely beautiful deserved color. Not that the color pencils would ever do his skin justice, or the pencil — even guided by the most gifted artists' hand — could ever get the planes of his face curved just right. Including myself. But I was sure that I would come the closest.

"Yes, this is how I see him. That one burst of color from the black and white. Jens, Jacob is too bright to be portrayed in grays and blacks. Those are too dull. Jacob is yellow, or red, orange, tan."

Jens look at me dubiously. That statement was a bit unlike me, but what the hell. Drawing made me passionate, which sometimes got a hold of my poor tongue. "Okay, honey, drop your version of utensils, and pick up everyone else's version. It's time to eat. I'll get my tray and join you. It's a Tuesday, no one needs me."

* * *

><p>"Your parents should be visiting Sunday." I give Jens an incredulous look. At least she decided to tell me, and I wasn't surprised with another tense visit.<p>

"Can't you just cancel? Tell them I'm sick," I say. She gives me a version of her death glare, which is pathetic compared to mine, or even my mom's.

"_Not_ funny, Lilac. And your family visiting isn't an appointment that I can just reschedule or cancel," she tells me giving me a pointed look.

"It was a snide comment," I explain. "And Jens, to _her_ it is an appointment. Tell her I'm busy with another visitor, and I'll let her know when an 'appointment' will be most convenient for me." _Never_.

"Lilac, honey, you can't ignore them forever. Your mother, well, she does care for you. You . . . didn't see her face when Carlise told her that you had —" I didn't need to hear the rest. With Jens, she was always trying to defend my mom, telling me really does care. She just has a hard time showing it, or is still processing her daughter being sick. Yaddi-yah-yah.

"I don't care. Can we talk about something else?" I ask, biting into my salad. Extra olives.

"Yeah, of course honey," Jens says, looking at me warily. As if I'm about to break.

"Look," I start firmly, "one day, I am going to die. Whether that day be within the month, a year, or even decades, it is going to happen. Would I like to be on good terms with my mom? Yes. Am I going to initiate the start of those terms? No." I wouldn't. I tried, but was practically disowned by her. I wouldn't go through all that pain again. "Perhaps one day we could be okay again, but honestly, I don't know if I can respect the person who doesn't accept who I am." The expression on Jens face was brutal. I cared for her so much and she was looking at me with this . . . This _sympathy_, and I hated it. I hated it so much. "Don't. Don't look at me like that. I've accepted my fate, you can too," I end quietly.

"What you _think_ is your fate, Lilac, might just be a past of misfortunes you think will continue into a long, never ending trail of them." What was I supposed to do with that? I didn't want her to be right. Her putting these thoughts into my head might make me question my future — or lack of one. Just like the shaggy haired boy who'd continuously visited me in the short, but sweet, two week acquaintance.

Of course I concluded that my future was going to be as fucked up as my past. I felt stupid, really, now that I've thought about it. I had everything I ever wanted — whatever shoe, whatever friend, whatever, whatever, whatever. But my whole life, I've felt like I lived with people who would never understand _me_. I'd always felt . . . Wrong. It was like trying to put a star into the circle on those children learning toys — it just didn't _fit_. You'd have to cut all of the star's legs off to make it go in smoothly.

But what would that leave you with?

Not a star. A star and a circle are two very different things, so how could you just change that star into one? It was making a whole different person. And I — I couldn't do that. I wouldn't change myself. The one thing I truly wanted — over the shoes and friends and whatever — was acceptance.

Every time we took a family picture, everyone would be black and white, and I'd be the only one in red. Standing out. _Loud_. But instead of beautiful and enigmatic, I was perceived as brash, outlandish, and disgraceful. Just plain _wrong_.

I loved my family so much. And my mom, although opinionated and sharp, I loved her too. But when she — _god_, when she looked at me — and I mean _truly_ looked at me — like I was that brash, outlandish, disgraceful daughter people said I was, I snapped. Years of comments about my posture, my language, my manners, my taste, they all came back. Years of bitterness burned so bright in me, too bright for a fourteen year old. She thought I was a mistake, and I _never_ let her forget that.

The only nonphysical attributes I gained from my mom, I learned after that. I threw her sharp, snide, cunning remarks. I showed her up at the one thing she taught me — how to insult, degrade, and humiliate someone while using classy, non-crude, graceful, and articulately put language.

I wasn't an idiot, though my mother sure thought otherwise. I remember her face the first time I called her out. The absolute shock clearly curved on her features. She was under this damned illusion that I never read, and if I did it was probably immature romance novels, but that wasn't exactly the case. I'd read her fully stocked library consisting of Mark Twain, Charlotte Brontë, Jane Austen, Edgar Allan Poe, etc. I could probably teach college kids a few things in vocabulary.

I wonder if things would've been different if I'd tried to discuss the books with her after I'd finished reading it. So she'd know, she'd _know_ I did read. I remember listening to her talk about her favorite books, then sneaking into her library and reading them myself. What if I told her I did? Would that have changed anything? She would've known that I _did_ care, that I _did_ listen to her.

But that didn't matter anymore. It shouldn't've mattered. I am her daughter. Well, she'd argue that.

I didn't know if it was my mother's pride, or if I could just say that she was a cold hearted bitch, but she never admitted that what she _did_ — what she _said_ to me, was wrong. Whether her pride wouldn't let her apologize, or she really did hate me, disgust me, I didn't know. And I don't want to.

It would be nice to be on good terms with my mom before I died. But I didn't know if I could find it in myself to forgive her.

"I — I don't know, Jens." Another beautiful thing about Jens was that she knew when you were thinking, and she wouldn't interrupt it. I'd probably just analyzed things for a good ten minutes, and she didn't say anything.

"Okay!" She explains, clapping her hands together loudly. "Enough of that hard stuff. How's everything with that handsome Jacob Black?"

Jacob. He'd been coming around almost everyday since the day we met. I had a pile of board games ranging from checkers to Candyland. I'd been reluctant to really open up to him, but it was so fucking _hard_ not too. He was sweet, intelligent, funny, charming, and so much more. His loyalty to his family was strong, and for some reason he'd bestowed that loyalty on me.

"Good. He's charming company."

"Oh my god, Lilac, that's all? I'm not the only one who has noticed your rising heart rates and blood pressure," she says suggestively. I decided to humor her, even though I was kind of embarrassed. Jacob had stolen very strong feelings from me, but he didn't raise my blood pressure. Damn.

"Well, if I must confess . . ." Jens glares at me, arching a brow, "I have this notion that our hearts are inexplicably connected. That the healthy, pure blood that runs through his veins, pumps through his heart, has somehow found its way to mine."

"Goddammit Lilac, can't you be serious? As sweet as that was, I know that you are just feeding me nonsense. Tell me how you really feel."

Goddammit Jens, why must you be so tempting? "I don't understand him, Jens. What is this beautiful, amazing guy doing with me? I have cancer, I'm literally about to die, I'm a bitch, I have mom problems, I'm scrawny, I'm pale, and finally, much to my utter dismay, verging baldness. I cannot fathom why he would waste his time with me."

Jacob could get any girl. He could flash her a smile, and she'd be at his beck and call. But from the short time I've known him, I knew he wasn't like that. We'd, very tensely, discussed his love life. He'd said that it was nonexistent._ For now_, he'd said very suggestively. Or maybe that was my ego. I knew he had an unrequited love. It was still a soft spot for him, so I didn't push for details. But I knew why he was so miserable when we first met.

Sometimes, he'd get that look that I related to so well, and I hated it. Something that I basked in when I first saw it, now repulsed me. It physically hurt to see that look in his eyes, on his face. Pain and loneliness and resignation was for me to bear, not him.

I learned very quickly that Jacob wore his heart on his sleeve, and it was beautiful. He was a breath of fresh air. He was also brash, crude, and unconventional. On him, these qualities were endearing, so maybe it was on me too. And maybe the _people from our society _got it wrong.

"Look, Lilac, I know it must be a shock to you, but you are worth someone's time. Maybe he saw in you what I've seen all along: _passion_. And as cliché as it sounds, a wild spirit who has been caged her whole life. I don't know about you, dear, but something about Jacob seems wild, and I think that his inner wildness is reaching out to yours, trying to unlock that cage you've been stuck in."

"That was the most ridiculous thing you've ever said to me." Jens has always been out there, but damn, I think she's finally lost it. Been working here too long, that's for sure.

"I know, I know. But honey, let him in. He's going to be good for you — he _is_ good for you."

I wasn't sure about that. Jacob made me feel amazing — more alive than I felt even when I didn't have a cancerous cell in my body. But I was afraid of him — of what he caused me to feel. Jacob was going to ruin my entire life. I have this plan, that I'm going to do my treatments, prepare for the worst, then probably die. I was okay with it. I'd say my goodbyes before I dropped dead, but I was accepting of my fate. Now . . . Now, that path didn't intrigue me as much as it did before.

But I had no right,_ no right_ to even think of a better future. Especially — especially with someone who deserved better than a fate interlaced with mine.

I didn't know what I wanted anymore . . . I was so sure of everything, and then this _guy_ came in and messed it all up. But I couldn't be bitter, not really, when I'd take confusion over never having seen his smile, or heard his laugh.

I was going to die, but if I could have one little bit of true happiness before I did, then okay.

"I don't know what it is about him, Jens, but he makes me question every little thing I had set in stone. He's going to drive me absolutely mad. And I am going to let him in, very slowly, but I will. Slowly. I'm . . . I'm going to show him today."

"Are you also going to tell him? The clock is ticking, you've got about two more weeks."

Two weeks. The same amount of time I'd known Jacob.

"Yes, I know. I'm going to tell him. All of it."

"Good for you, Lilac. Good for you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: hehehehehe. I'm evil. Sorry, but I had too. I worked really hard on my character portrayal. I hope y'all like Lilac. She's such an awesome character.**

**Again, I'm sorry for the cliffhanger! I was going to add a visit from Jacob after, but I felt that this was the appropriate time to end it. ;)**

**Another thank you to everyone who has supported me!**

**Also, remember if you have any questions just PM or comment, I'll make sure to get back to you ASAP!**

**See y'all next time. :)**


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